As we entered the banquet room, the greeters checked us in, giving each member an envelope with our name on. Oh, you want to know what our envelopes contained? Well, the winner was... oops, nope, not yet. They just contained our name tags, a raffle ticket for door prizes, and a colored dot to clue the staff what entrée to give us, red if by land, blue if by sea (in other words, either prime rib or Copper River salmon). This year, eighty members and guests attended the banquet.
Treasurer John and Membership Head Dean Ready to Check Us In
Checking InJohn and Dean begin checking in the guests as we begin to arrive. Here Mature Friends’ president and first husband pose with drinks already in hand. The bookends are Paul, the head of the Bridge Club, and Peter, so to be retired (can you tell by his big toothy smile?).
Our Newly Elected Vice-President Mike Signs In
Ready to Party!After checking in, we made our way into the first of two sumptuous drawing rooms. But this room was not our immediate goal. No! We were looking for the bar!
Moving past the drawing room, ah! there it was — the object of our search, the BAR! The stampede was on. As with last year, the bar was well-organized and prices stayed more or less the same. In our first year at the Women’s Club, some people got bigger wine glasses than others, while some got charged more than others. As you can imagine, a near riot ensued. However, that glitch was fixed last year and the cocktail hour went on smoothly. However, this year, we quickly discovered that the main bar window (behind to the left) had bigger wine glasses and gave better pours than the lady at the wine table in another room. She had been placed there to ease the line-up at the bar window, but hardly anybody went to her table.
This year, no roving cocktail waitress milled about to take drink orders.
Bar Finally Found!
Finally with drinks in hand, we wandered around looking for places to sit down and relax or just wandered around to take in the elegant surroundings of the club. Although the press did not greet us at the front door, inside we had our own roving paparazzi, who snapped our pictures as we mingled for an hour.
But come on, follow me into the drawing room and check out who’s with whom and who’s drinking what. Shhh! No tattling!
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